I watched Bou-Djema as he made this suppressed ejaculation. His eyes were fixed on the Targa with a mixture of stupor and fright.
Eg-Anteouen's camel was a dozen yards ahead of us, side by side with Morhange's. The two men were talking. I realized that Morhange must be conversing with Eg-Anteouen about the famous inscriptions. But we were not so far behind that they could not have overheard our words.
Again I looked at my guide. I saw that he was pale.
"What is it, Bou-Djema?" I asked in a low voice.
"Not here, Lieutenant, not here," he muttered.
His teeth chattered. He added in a whisper:
"
Not here. This evening, when we stop, when he turns to the East to pray, when the sun goes down. Then, call me to you. I will tell you.... But not here. He is talking, but he is listening. Go ahead. Join the Captain."
"What next?" I murmured, pressing my camel's neck with my foot so as to make him overtake Morhange.